Infinite Stratos Vandam I
by Meister Babylon
Summary: 19 years ago, Pandora's Box was opened, and the world was changed by IS. Now, a lost Toy Box is found and many will stop at nothing to have it. A fight to grasp destiny is about to begin. Will it become the Savior of legend, or will it destroy everything?
1. Chapter 1

**Prologue**

_July 2015, 0342h_  
><em>Somewhere near the Mariana Trench<em>  
><em>5km below sea level<em>

If God were real, on the first day, he forgot to bring light to this part of the world. Barring some minor disturbances, not a spark had been seen here for the last 170 million years. Life had evolved to exist without luminance, and within this icky blackness, fish so strange but never seen by human eyes roamed in this brine desert. And it was quiet. No wash of the waves, no horn of a passing liner could reach down this deep.

Today was a day like any other, in the land which time forgot. Key operative here being 'was'.

A bright beam lanced over the seabed, revealing its rippling, duney form for the first time. The life that was here retreated post-haste, not from the light, but from the throbbing racket that was the yellow bathysphere's capillary drive slowly cruising along the deep.

"This is _Deep Sea Nine_," the pilot said into his radio, chuckling briefly at his geek joke. "5,021 meters and trawling. All is well."

He spoke without taking his eyes off the dark world outside his pressured fiberglass dome. There was a brief pause, then the PA cackled again. This voice was female.

"Topside here. Leave your idiot jokes up here, Marco. Are we done yet? You're 12 minutes overdue."

"Not yet!" The bespectabled mariner called. "My spidey senses are a-tingling! _Yaaar_."

There was a sigh from the other end. "Spare me... I want to _sleeeeep_."

DS9 laughed. "I'll catch with my sleep the first year I'm dead!"

"Then die already, you idiot!"

"_Ah~~ Abuse me more~~_"

"..._aaaah mou_ why am I stuck here with a spelunking hikkikomori again?"

"Because the pay's good."

You could almost hear her flop upon the work bench.

"Damn those Foundation heads. It's already been 3 years! What are they expecting to find? The bloody thing intact?"

"I'm not complaining," Marco said as he marked more unreadable notes on his scribe, then put more commands into the computer. The bathysphere nosed gently to port a few degrees, then carried on. "They pay for my gear, my ship, my clothes, my research, and my lovely girlfriend~~"

"Not nearly enough!" was the indignant reply. "I haven't had sex in months!"

Marco opened his mouth to reply, but somewhere in the corner of his eye, he thought he saw something glint in the distance. He tapped on his screen, and the sub sent a sonic pulse pinging through the world in front of him. The machine fed back an all-clear, as expected of a world worn flat by millennia of currents.

"_Oiii. Heeellooo._"

Marco chucked his workpad into an alcove and reached down to the bike-like controls.

"I think I saw something. Deviating from the search pattern!"

"What? Hey wait! I haven't correlated with the GPS!"

"Then, do it now!" Marco grinned as he up the throttle. The pulsing of the capillary drive became quicker, and so did the yellow submarine surge forward. Annoyed shadows shrank away as the invader from above barreled through. The brightly-lit machine was the only visual life for kilometers around, and the darkness grew thicker as the sea floor fell away. There was little need for excitement. Things hadn't changed here since the dinosaurs, and a few seconds shouldn't make a difference. But truth be told, some part of him wanted to find some treasure, and the fruitlessness was starting to gnaw at him.

Marco was almost on top of the Mariana Trench now.

"Got the GPS lock yet?"

"Not when you keep moving!"

Marco looked to another screen and twiggled a joystick. The screen reacted and panned about, looking for signs of the earlier spark. He was certain it was around here somewhere.

"Eh. GPS locked on. Relaying coordinates now..."

"_Attagirl~~_"

"Bleah."

As the machine worked through the very faint signal beam, Marco took a moment to admire the vacant world around him. Even now, Mankind knew more about the moon than there was about the bottom of his backyard pond. This place was as harsh, and as old as the lunar surface, but Marco always felt it would be easier to get down here. After all, gravity would help rather than hinder. But somehow, only few were willing to bother. Instead, people on the surface were worried about the next pay check, the effect of global cooling would have on the economy, who's hiding the latest IS technology from inspectors, when the next African Civil War would be...

_Short-sighted and blind like landlubbers always have._

Marco knew he wasn't the idiot, they were. Because no one had enough funding, there was still an imperfect system in place to warn the nations sitting around the Ring of Fire when trouble would strike. Instead, Marco and his expedition of a handful had only sketchy lines and probabilities to work with.

_Even worse than the weather_, he griped as his computer bleeped its job complete. Marco absent-mindedly touched the screen to launch the synchronized GPS marker into the soil below.

Because of this lack of information, anyone would be inclined to believe anything, even to those bordering on frank superstition.

Like for example, the marker striking the seabed causing an earthquake via butterfly effect.

Marco didn't have time to brace. Like a giant awakening, the Trench bellowed deep and rough as the built-up tectonic stress came free all at once. The plate slipped like a spring come loose, dropped a few centimeters across the entire trench but sucking a tremendous volume of sea altogether. The currents suddenly bore down upon the tiny craft and into the gaping jaws of darkness. Caught powerless, the yellow bathysphere bounced off the sea floor and tumbled along, shattering bulbs and robot appendages along with rocking its contents for a good measure.

Up above, the half-naked woman tending to Marco could only hear his screams and things crashing in to one another. She was wide-awake now.

"Marco! What's happening? Marco!"

She felt the ship beginning to list as the dragged submarine hauled on its lifeline. An alert from Manila University screamed Ritcher 7.6. She reached for the winch then stopped. She wanted to pull Marco back to the surface, but that would be fighting the currents pulling the u-boat downwards. If the cable snapped, there would be absolutely no way Marco is coming back up.

Another alarm blared. The tension in the cable was reaching critical limits, and the creaking of the winch brakes resounded throughout the ship. Concerned Tagalog voices could be heard as crewmen roused from sleep. The girl's hand hovered over the toggle. Up? Or down? But how far was he? Was the bathyscape near its maximum depth? She went over all the instruments, but nothing told her what she wanted to know.

"Marco? Marco!"

The hiss of static was her reply. The comms was damaged, and at that depth, shortwave radio was almost useless. She could hear the captain ordering the boat to about-face and throttle up. The old chugboat roared to life, and the list became a rising pitch as the crew turned the ship and crane until the submarine was off the aft then compensated the drag with horsepower.

She planted her face in her hands, and prayed.

The pitch lessened in the passing seconds. The roar of the engine died down as the gyroscope leveled out. The girl looked up and at the wall of dials once more. There were no more alarms, no more flashing lights. Manila's feed had gone silent too.

But, so were the instruments recording the state of the bathyscape.

"Marco...?" She tried again.

This far above, in the clear night sky, anything that happened below, stayed below.

But again, this was not a typical day.

A screen bleeped. This was a recording feed meant for relaying coordinates and monitoring power to the submarine. It was delivered by digital signal, and so while it had a short delay between pulses, it was most reliably for emergency transmission. And the last line read:

"Found it."

Without voice, there was no way what was actually happening down there could reach up there. But the girl nonetheless took off to notify the rest of the ship. Meanwhile, as Marco nursed his bleeding head, he was screaming with glee:

"We've found it! We've found it! We've fucking found it!"

The cheers from the bathyscape spread up to the host ship, by one way, above the waves, to the listening ears of the researchers back in Manila. Those cheers rippled from the submarine into the deathly quiet of the Mariana Trench like a party outside a fish tank. And below that bathyscape sat a large, olive-green craft. While some battle-damage could be seen, the built-for-everything machine was preserved by three years of slit, and the sudden rush of water had rinsed that off. Dead center in the beam of light, was the mark of the Asean Foundation, and the lost Infinite Stratos Carrier, [**Copernicus**]. The prize they all seeked.

Yet beneath that pristine hull, past armored bulkhead after bulkhead, though vacant corridors and bolted hatches, over the odd mummified figure or two, those sounds of life had died out. In this frozen world, seated upon the Captain's Chair in the airless bridge, was a desiccated corpse. In life, he wore a white labcoat that was now bloodstained and ragged. Cradled in his arms, was a single hollow cylinder.

And for a brief moment, **it**** flickered ****with**** a ****faint**** red**** light.**


	2. Chapter 2

_Title Narrative_

The year is 2020. 9 years has passed since the Pandora's Box, Infinite Stratos, was revealed to the world. Upheaval of the events that followed gave birth to terrors and miracles alike. Thus reshaped by war and threats of war, the world is now separated into seven major blocs:

Pax Americana, the world's most advanced superpower with unmatched military might, controls the entire American continent by economic promise and military subjugation. Since the election of the most hawkish Republicans into all levels of government, where the US once stood for moderacy and diplomacy was a slumbering angry giant all fear to awaken. Their IS are armed with bleeding edge technology capable of leveling cities on their own. And that was counting their massproduction models...

The European Union filled the vacuum left by NATO's collapse with rigid social engineering and investment in organic assets. The pinnacle of their achievements is the super-soldier program formed by the Ubermensch and the Schwarzehase. On the ground, these men and women form the spearhead to break the enemy where they are strong, then crush them utterly with the rest of European armor.

China is a new kid on the block, but their pride, negligible costs and innumerable numbers dictate a brutal but effective hand in the way they conduct all their affairs. Their Dragon series of IS boast unparalleled reliability, durability and close combat prowess rivalling the Uchigane.

Russia buys everything they need. Local PMCs and corporatist conglomerates are king. And they will always make you an offer you can't refuse. Money is power, and so does this transfer to their remarkable, if baroque, IS.

India may seem like a dumping ground, but they boast one of the most venerable forces on the planet. Their IS, like themselves, are practical workhorses that clawed out their niche in the world wth their own hands, and will make any opponent pay should the get in the way.

The Middle East is a loose collection of nascent democracies riding on the sale of energy and sapherium, a crucial component in building IS frames. Women remain oppressed, unless you were born or married to the right family, then with the honor of piloting an IS comes endless wealth and prestige.

Africa, and 'rogue' states that dot the rainbow-colored geopolitical landscape remained locked in strife both by their own hands, or by proxy battles fought amongst their powerful allies. These countries are too unstable to be granted IS, and only a handful ever acquire the right to field a Representative Candidate. With poor and sometimes impossible policing, much of this lost world turned underground, with dire consequences for the rest of the globe.

Japan now stands alone, an unwitting victim of an inventor who didn't care and an international witch hunt baying for the blood of a scapegoat. They are the smallest sovereignity with the most IS in the Alaska Treaty, and the Uchigane is the most common IS on the planet. But without independent resources, the Japanese people remain at the mercy of their trading partners and tenuous allies.

Upon this crumbling status quo comes the underdog player. They are the Australia, South East Asia, Newzealand (ASEAN) Foundation, thus named for uniting the Pacific and Asian Island States under a single banner. Idealistic and brazen, and as diverse as they come, the Foundation found herself the new moderate center of an increasingly polarized world. Squashed between snarling giants, and gnawed from within by terrorists, the Foundation were as misaligned as Japan.

Until one day, Professor Thongudompen created a truly remarkable IS whose debut showing had the superpowers sit up and watch. This unit that saved the Foundation from her internal conflicts and placed her on the world stage was named after an innocent flower, the Vanda M. Joaqium. But she was remembered as [Saviour of Humanity]. Her people hoped that she would become the Idol of Salvation in a world standing on the brink of madness.

And so, the Infinite Stratos became a legend named **Vandam**.

**Infinite Stratos Vandam I**

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note<strong>

I'll start by coming out and saying that _"this is not the Infinite Stratos fic you seek."_ Those familiar with my writing style will know that I would have tore my hair out at all the inconsistencies and poorly-thought out conveniences common to the host canon. So here I am, world-building once again, trying to piece together little bits of everything here and there, filling in the gaps then forming the setting in which my grand plan will fall in to place.

The focus and tone of the story is not on harem, but using original characters going about a day in their life which would change their fates forever. I will also be writing a few series, each focusing on different parts of the world. Canon characters will be few at this stage, as these stories are set during the year before Ichika, and the girls featured in my continuity, enrolls in the Infinite Stratos Academy. But there will be appearances; where appropriate, where their bonds are part of the story, you might get lucky with your chosen yandere.

Now that I have whet your appetites, let us begin. I hope this refreshing angle on Infinite Stratos will suit your tastes. And I hope you'd forgive my horrible Engrish that has become prevalent in my writing. ^^;;


	3. Chapter 3

**Singapore Island, Asean Foundation**  
><strong>Present Day<strong>  
><strong>0600<strong>

The island state was one of the places in the world where when night falls, the city would remain as bright as ever. This was so even in the suburbia, where skyrocketing population density has forced citizens to live in apartments stacked half a skyscraper tall. Every floor of the city obsessed with security shone with orange light, and some of that reflected in to everyone's bedrooms.

It was just enough light to make out a small figure curled up in bed.

"Super giant parfait... Delicious..." She dreamed while nibbling on her pillow.

When the clock struck 6, the radio turned on.

_"...High-Chancellor Engelmann announced yesterday that German scientists have made yet another breakthrough towards the understanding of IS Perception. This comes as the EU prepares itself for the biggest military review since its inception..."_

"Uuu..." groaned the small girl. "Another five minutes..."

_"The ISpers are individuals whose brain have structures that, by accident rather than design, can interact with IS cores and amplify the IS' capabilities..."_

"...have to get up..."

Eyes still sealed shut, and hair frazzled beyond presentability, the girl felt about the side desk for the Off button. But her small stature had her falling far short of the target.

She squirmed, and missed. Visibly annoyed, she stretched. And stretched. And streeetched...

And tumbled bodily to the floor.

"Ow-ow-ow-ow-ow..."

"Karon? Are you alright?" Her mother called from the kitchen.

"I'm fine!" She called back, then moaned softly. "The parfait..."

* * *

><p><em>"The ISper program, once lampooned as Project Stargate II, has experts working with the ever growing pool of Schwarzehase supersoldiers discovered with the abilities..."<em>

In another part of the island, another person was listening to the same broadcast. She was far removed from the towering government flats. Instead, her home was nestled within acres of landscaped garden, fenced by tall rainforest trees and concertina-topped concrete. The odd gardener or two pruned the living ornaments that lined the cured grass as they did their morning patrol, while maids hurried about the compound preparing it for guests when they appear.

"They are progressing very swiftly," the pink haired girl said.

The man in the holographic window suspended over her breakfast sighed. "It is a terrifying prospect. The closer the EU are in unraveling the mystery of ISpers, the edgier the rest of the world is getting."

She smiled. "I'm sure we're close to making a few discoveries ourselves."

That did not help his mood.

"...I'm sorry, Gin. I never expected you, of all people, to be an ISper. Ever since the Schwarzehase discovered it, the world has been racing to find and create them..."

He transferred his weight from one arm to the next.

"It has been nothing but a curse for the both of us."

"No," the girl replied after dabbing her lips with a napkin. "Father is always working to keep our nation together. If my ability can help the Foundation, I'd step up gladly!"

"That is good, for the President of the Asean Foundation. But as a father..."

He shrugged.

"I feel that I am asking too much of my little girl."

"Mother does not agree," Gin said. "Me too. We're both cheering for you, always."

President Tio nodded slowly and let a small smile loose.

"Thank you, Gin. You two always know what to say to me."

"Mm!" Gin said as she stood up and placed her hands on her hips. "Now quit moping around and go act like a President should!"

Tio could recognize that posture any time.

"Aye-aye, Ma'am."

When he terminated the line, Gin stepped away from the table and towards the ornate cupboard. As the serfs cleared soiled plates, Gin touched a small frame. The image within its sculptured square changed as she did, moving with each light swipe. She stopped when it came to that of her father, her mother, and her little self. It was taken when Tio first took office eight years ago. And in the years that passed, so much had changed. Tio's hair had gone completely gray and Gin had grown up to his shoulders. Gin's finger touched the image of her mother, and smiled.

"See you later, Mother."

* * *

><p><em>"...Dunois Corp have announced the completion of the most expensive IS Equalizer ever made. Hand-crafted by weapon artist Vulkan Weber over 5 years, the latest item from 'Vulkan's Forge' is aptly the Mjolnir. Like its mythical namesake, the Mjolnir is a gigantic hammer. But collectors can not ever hope to own this artefact. It is apparently not for sale..."<em>

"Yawn~~~"

Karon grumbled as she came back from the shower. She was already in her school uniform. In some circles, the simple get-up was known as sailor uniform, but in Singapore it meant so much more. The only school with authentic seirafuku was the Singapore Japanese Girls School. It was the elite of the elite in all schools on the island, and had twinning programs and bridging courses to almost everything in Japan. It took every single bit of effort just to get through the front door and earn the right to wear the clothes of red, blue and white.

But it was worth it. For the only way to Singapore Representative Candidacy was via the National Cadet Corp (Stratos), a nation-wide organization that combined military-grade IS training with the rigors of a school club. And the best branch was in the SJGS.

Karon stopped and twirled in front of the mirror, mentally letting the night's minimal sleep go away and replace with the excitement of the coming day. She attached a small collar pin of the NCCS crest to her lapels and smoothed out the fabric. Gou then finished off with a pair of red lucky ribbons to the strands of hair which framed her face. Karon twirled again. Satisfied with her handiwork, the small girl gave her messy room a once-over before turning her attention to a stand in the corner. Nestled beneath posters of cutie rock greats like Nakano Azusa and Hirasawa Yui was her prized friend: a sparklingly-polished Fender Mustang.

"Muttan!" Karon called out to the electric guitar and skipped over fallen plushies, almost falling over twice before she arrived. With a quick sweep, Karon slung it on, hoped on to her bed and scratched a high-power riff, without the power plugged in. She had to keep it that way, not everyone needed to wake as early as she did.

But that was enough; the pingy twangs of the wires were loud and overdriven in her head; her kitty-printed sheets was her live stage; the plushies below the silently raving crowd as Gou strummed out her energized solo. Her hands moved with a life of their own; the tune was her own creation; the climax built up as she willed it. Then, at the cresendo, she jumped off the stage with a loud strum.

All would have gone to plan had she not stepped on a squeaky toy on the way down.

"Waaah!"

Her legs shot out from under her and Karon tumbled backward on to the bed. The shockwave sent more soft toys into the air. She cringed for impact, then, Daniel David bounced off her head.

The girl laughed sheepishly.

"Karon!"

There was her mother again.

"Coming!" Karon called as she wriggled out of Muttan's grasp, placed him back on his stand and hurried out.

* * *

><p>The news continued to be read over the airwaves. This however was not routine for the figure kneeling on polished wood, deep in meditation. She much preferred the early quiet just before dawn, with nothing more for company than the wooden shinken by her right, and a light novel on her left. This was her in her natural state, surrounding herself in calm and cleansing her soul, readying for the coming chaos that was each day of her life. With her long black hair tied back, white keikogi and crimson hakama ironed meticulously flat, there was no way one would have guessed her public persona.<p>

Which was why the radio droning in the background was out of place. She knew full well the news this morning would only serve to rile her up. But yet, like a moth drawn to a fire, she left it on.

_"In other news, Riz has called it quits! The rising idol of [Empatsu no Eiyuu] made the shock announcement yesterday during a meet-and-greet session organized in conjunction with her latest album. The [Goddess of Tsundere], as she is known to her fans, personally said that she would be going on hiatus to focus on her education."_

Riz's eyebrow twitched at hearing her own voice as the sound bite played and took her over last evening's events.

_"This is an important announcement, so I felt it was only right that I say it in person..."_

The lights were bright as ever, and her audience were only shadows thronged against the heavy barriers set up around the stage.

_"I'm taking a break."_

The uproar from the gathered mass was so loud even the microphone recording distorted at that point. It hit her with the force of a charging elephant, and with practiced courage Riz the Idol let it flow right through her. She bided her time, waiting for the fans to pick on the cue. For now, she let them grieve.

_"I know this comes as a shock._ Hontoni, gomen ne._"_

It was a lie. Every single word was a lie. It was a script that her manager forced upon her after the older veteran tried and failed to make Riselle change her mind. She had enough of it all, of the cameras shoved in her face, of the slimy throng of adolescent men vying for her attention even when she knew nothing about them, of the constant fear of stalkers...

And most of all, that every single one of them loved [Goddess of Tsundere], not Riselle Koh Yukimura, the shy girl in glasses who just wanted to make real friends. How laughable...

She waited for the next wave of 'sorrow' die down, trying to ignore the odd cries of encouragement without showing it.

_"But I'm not completely out of it."_

Her smile came on at the flick of a mental switch.

_"Tomorrow, I'll be competing with other candidates for the position of Singapore Representative, and I'll be enrolling in the Infinite Stratos Academy for further training."_

She gave a wink.

_"I'll have a surprise for you when I return!"_

As expected, the crowd cheered their approval loudly. Riselle could only find disgust in herself, to so easily have them eating out of her hand. That sentiment she suppressed as well.

The script decided that Riz would give thanks, bow then take her leave. But as she stood there, she could see grown men crying like little girls, and little girls waving their hand-made placards with frantic force. She could smell their disappointment. And then, from the furthest back row, a slow ripple gathered up and grew as it flooded forward. The crowd's cheers morphed from shapeless noise to synchronized chants: "Ri-zu! Ri-zu! Ri-zu!"

Riselle sucked a breath in and steeled herself as Riz fought to get out.

Like always, the fans won against years of bushido practice.

_"S-So, be a good boy and w-wait for me, okay?!"_

Riz stammered at the top of her voice, like the celluloid characters she has come to play over, and over, and over.

_"I-If you go off w-worshipping another goddess, I'll never forgive you, you got that?!"_

The crowd erupted in rapturous applause as Riselle ended the memory there. Even though Riz left the stage with a lasting impression, Riselle shook her head, defeated by her own kindness.

"Even at the last moment, I was still acting..."

A trio of sharp raps on her bamboo door broke up her self-reflection.

"Young Mistress?"

"Come in," Riz replied while waving her hand. As if it were magic, her wooden sword and her novel dissolved away. A soft click and beep told her that those equalizers had been stored successfully.

The retainers on the other side slid the door open, and the leader knelt by the frame, head bowed.

"Your armor is ready for fitting, Young Mistress."

"Proceed, Jyun."

"Right away."

The orange-head plus servants widened the gap and retreated hurriedly. They returned soon enough, pushing giant mechanical parts so heavy that sturdy movers had to be used. These were floating on gravitic repulsion to avoid the heavy system from cracking the aged plank flooring. It was a necessary expense even if pinpoint barriers surrounded every plank and pillar in this dojo; barriers can strain and break, and that was unnecessary an expense.

As the retainers moved to her back, Riselle gave another mental command.

_[Skin change: Default.]_ Her IS declared.

The kendo gear being just a physical holographic reshaping of the IS frame vaporized in an instant, and was replaced by crimson armor plates over grey servo frames. It was distinctively an Uchigane, painted blood red according to her spec. But a trained eye could spy small alcoves and hard points where in the stock design would have been covered in plate or be simply absent. The Kohs owned the largest weapons manufacturing plants in the Foundation after all, and this was a Uchigane kept by the family for product demonstrations. With their daughter both a honed swordsgirl and a popular idol, possession of that unit naturally came to her. Riselle had to admit that the Uchigane was the only thing she still loved about being an idol...

Riselle meditated for a bit as she kept on kneeling, even after doing that for an hour. IS compensation for blood circulation and forcefields had reduced seiza to a joke.

"How is it?" Said a new voice.

"Hahaue," the younger girl greeted her mother. "This armor is no trouble."

Mrs Koh did catch Riselle shooting a brief glance off to the side. It was directed at another armor, as crimson as the Uchigane, displayed like a museum piece overlording the bamboo training grounds.

"Do you remember the purpose of today's exercise?"

"Yes." Riselle replied with a strict tone. "I am to demonstrate the effectiveness of Oowashi Uchigane against the second-hand Tears the United Kingdom will be selling the Foundation in a best of 3 duel."

The servants tapped a few more controls, and the package began to unfurl. Repulsion forces floated it off the trolley and eased it gently into place. Soft clunks of metal bolting in echoed in the hall.

"But you are not confident of winning?"

"No, Hahaue," Riselle continued in that grey tone. "The Oowashi Uchikage pack will suffice..."

She closed her arms around her unarmored torso, blushing a little.

"...but I prefer the warmth of Tenmoku."

The older woman tossed her head back and laughed.

"But you do swimsuit editions so well!"

"_Ha-Hahaue!_" Riselle retorted, embarrassed.

"Fitting complete, Young Mistress," said the servant named Jyun as they backed the hoverpad away.

The frazzled Riselle nodded mutely, then moved to stand up. Boosted by the deep leggings, Yukimura's enlarged form blocked out the ceiling lamp and shrouded her mother in shadow. Riselle twisted torso left and right, flexed her claws, then shifted the Oowashi pack's aerofoils with mental commands.

"Pre-flight test complete," said Jyun as she folded away her datapad into her baggy sleeves. "Oowashi Uchigane is ready for combat."

Once everything checked out, Mrs Koh gave her approval.

"You're a big girl, I can't even pat your head now," she commented. "So let me worry about the minor details and you focus on your part."

Riselle knelt back down to disengage from the suit when her mother wrapped her arms around the not-so-little one.

"Break a leg, okay?"

Riselle was surprised for a moment, but realized that the frustration from before had faded. She returned the hug.

"Yes, Hahaue," Riz smiled. And from behind the young mistress, so did Jyun beam proudly.

* * *

><p>"Really now," complained the older woman as her daughter plowed through a large plate of bacon &amp; eggs as though it were a serving half its size. "Girls shouldn't be always falling down. It'll ruin your lovely face..."<p>

"Ehehe..." Karon laughed sheepishly between fork-fulls.

The room was full of contrasts. Karon kept a holographic projection of the morning news playing from a mobile slate by her food; that stood out from the worn furnishings of a style from the tight years of 1985. Karon was without a doubt a smaller version of her mother with hair cut to a bob, but her skin was pearly white, and her mother was that of chocolate bronze. And while Mrs Gou had only salad in front of her, Karon had already cleared a plate of noodles before tackling the bacon, and there was still cereal, milo, and sticky cake to go.

Then the phone rang. Its ring was old and distinct, the monophonic bleat of an era predating the decade of the IS. It came from plastic and silicon so old that its white coverings had long turned murky cream; definitely older than the relatively-super computer in Karon's reach.

Mrs Gou stretched over.

"Hey Mom!" greeted a deep arrogant voice into a touchscreen by his bunk. Unlike Singapore, it was already mid-morning in Elsea Air Base, Panara City set within the lush rainforest of the Phillipines. But the drawn curtains kept out most of the Pinoy light, leaving whatever filtered to outline his silver white hair and bronzed skin.

"Kajie!" She answered happily. "You really should call back more often."

Karon looked up and waved with her knife, only to remember that the old telephone had no camera.

"I've been busy," he grinned as laid back in his bunk. "How's the monster doing? Still pigging out?"

Overhearing, Karon gave a look of annoyance.

"Why don't you ask her yourself?" She said while holding out the handset. Karon promptly hissed at it like an enraged cat, then polished up the last of the omelette.

"Ah, as welcoming as ever…" Kajie said, bemused. His hand wandered across the bed and ran along a bare back, prompting a girly moan back at him.

"Good luck with the Stratos thingamajig, alright?" He said.

Karon stopped hacking away at the sticky cake for a moment.

"_Haaai!_"

"Same to you, little boy," Mrs Gou chided. "Don't go flying all over the place and forgetting to look after yourself."

"Don't worry, Mom, I'm very well looked-after here. The hospitality is absolutely gorgeous."

He ran his hand along his companion again, and earned a backheel to the shin.

"Ah, I see," Mrs Gou replied. "Too bad you can't make it back on your little sister's big day."

"Sorry about that, we're testing a whole heap of new craft these few days. The bigwigs are making us work for all the bonuses they give."

Kajie said as he glanced at his chronometer.

"I'll be back by the day Karon's exam results are out. If its good, there's time to go celebrate."

Karon swallowed another mouthful and shouted, "Let's go to Botak Jone's Super Buffet!"

"Oh dear, all you do is eat!" Mrs Gou huffed.

"Then again, when people look at you, they'd think I haven't been feeding you enough…"

"Don't worry, Mom," Karon beamed. "Food, exercise, or study, everything goes straight to my head!"

To that, her mother just sighed. "Maybe that's why you keep falling over. Your head is just too powerful for your tiny body. How is it that you can pilot IS so well is beyond me…"

Karon just giggled sheepishly.

"Alright, gotta go, you two," Kajie concluded from the other end. "See you soon."

"Bai-bai," filtered the pair of voices to the quiet bunk, then Kajie dropped his handset on the side drawers.

"Your sister is taking the ISA exam today?" His companion said as she rolled over sleepily, taking care to keep the blanket tight around herself.

"Knowing that IS otaku, what else?" Kajie said as he reached over and picked up the ornate pendant hanging from the girl's neck. "What about Karon? Reminded about yourself?"

"Not at all," the girl declared as she brushed Kajie's hand off her IS in storage. "I'm just lying here, watching you turn into a sickening blushing siscon just by talking to her…"

_"O-, nii-, chan-, kun~~."_

He cocked up an eyelid.

"Are you sure you should be saying such things, _Super Idol Lee Qixiang?_"

Lee just flashed a wry smile and leaned over. "Of course I can…"

She planted a deep kiss and winked at Gou. _"O-, nii-, chan~!"_

Kajie seemed more bemused than impressed, and so Qixiang gave a tilt of the head and looked disappointed.

_"Da~me~~?"_

"You know what? Maybe I _am_ a siscon…"

* * *

><p><em>"...The Princess Live! is coming! The first batch of tickets have already been sold out just 4 hours after release and SISTEC is promising that the next batch will be ready in..."<em>

"Ginny!" Screamed a shrill voice as the clip-clops of riding boots grew louder.

The People's Princess, who had been discussing the morning's arrangements with her servants amid the garden walkways, turned towards the voice and curtsied.

"Morning, Miss Alcott."

"And morning to you too, good ma'am," replied Alcott in kind. Tio gave a gentle nod, and the maid team retreated with a small greeting.

"I trust that the room was agreeable with you?" said Gin in her usual softness as the aristocrats continued their way through the cool air.

"Oh it was splendid, absolutely splendid," Cecily declared. "I say, almost made Downing Street seem like a pauper's ghetto even."

"You're too kind..." Gin said. "And I haven't thanked you enough for helping out with the adjustments to Penelope last night."

"Dispense with the extra formalities, my good Lady," Cecily said with a dismissing wave. "You giving those Uchigane monkeys a good thrashing will be enough thanks for me."

"Then, won't you stay for the duel, Miss Alcott?"

"I would, I really really would," Cecily replied while looking apologetic. "But alas, I have to return to London as soon as permitted. The party is passing an important vote and I absolutely must be present..."

"That's fine then, Miss Alcott." Gin smiled. "Have a pleasant flight."

"Trust me, I will."

Cecilia then punched across her chest with confidence.

"So don't let my absence get you down, my dear Ginny! It may be only Gen 2, but you possess a Tears-type IS! With this piece of British excellence, no one can touch you!"

"Yes," Gin concurred sincerely yet with weight in her voice. "Whatever the outcome, the fate of the Foundation rests with it."

* * *

><p>With those words, a light wind began to blow, carrying the same sentiment throughout the small island, as different girls of age left their different homes, bearing the same red beret, and ran towards their next meeting with fate.<p>

Gin held her red beret down as she watched the hopeful dawn sweep across her waking home island.

Riselle adjusted her own cap then watched on as Jung rolled the shutters down on her slumbering Uchigane.

Karon scampered out of the flat and almost took a tumble from adjusting her shoes on the fly. This time she compensated well enough and righted herself just a few meters shy of the elevator landings. She smoothed her beret that had been knocked off-center then lit up. For she noticed the motivational poster of the day was now the original Vandam Idol, posed with rifle in salute, looking off over the horizon as a triplet of RVM units thrusted skywards in the background. It was captioned by the phrase, "_The DART Air Force. Above All._"

Her excitement boiling over, Gou raised both arms to the ceiling and squealed,

"**I will become Vandam!**"

* * *

><p><em>Author's Note<em>

A billion years overdue for an update, but mostly because of RL issues and the discovery that not only Izuru is back in action but also making a second season.

Finally, as expected, the 2nd season tanked. I hope he no longer gets the right to do any more animated IS because Same Shit Different Distributor is really what is killing this series.

Then again, I can't say I myself am saving IS. Though I do hope my take on the universe is still refreshing (despite sitting around on my bum chasing 47 different subplots and not getting _anything_ done!) But don't worry about the subplot thing. Vandam I is just one little story told in the setting of the greater SHOOTiNG ST R universe.

Meanwhile, read and review, and stay tuned for the next chapter!

_- Meister Babylon_


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